


Buying Time

by triskelle (agentofSHIELD)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Lydia Martin, Badass Stiles Stilinski, F/F, F/M, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Nobody is Dead, Pack Dynamics, Rating May Change, Relationships are not the plot, Scott McCall is a Good Alpha, Stiles is really powerful, Tattooed Stiles Stilinski, They're mostly in the background, WIP, because i love them all so much, mild depictions of violence, slow burn sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-02-15 10:50:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2226300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentofSHIELD/pseuds/triskelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and his dad had moved across the country from New York to Beacon Hills, and suddenly he's away from the psycho crazy wolf pack feuds he was caught in the middle of back on the East Coast. And the hunters weren't on his tail anymore. He'd given them all the slip.<br/>For now.<br/>Beacon Hills wasn't permanent; he was just buying himself some time while his magic secured itself.<br/>But then he runs into the local werewolf Pack and things get complicated.<br/>With his magic growing stronger and the news that the Alpha Pack are headed to California, how long does Stiles have until he has to reveal his true nature, and his history, to his new Pack?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beacon Hills

Stiles fumbled for his nightstand in the darkness of his room to shut off his alarm, the shrill pips pounding at his head as he was dragged brutally and unceremoniously from his sleep.

It was really early, really fucking early and all he wanted was to go back to sleep.  
Stupid school and stupid fucking first impressions to make.

Stiles and his dad had moved suddenly from New York two days prior, so the house was in various stages of unpacking, and the clutter around his room meant that it would take Stiles much longer to get ready than he would like, hence the excruciatingly early wake up call.

Muttering profanities under his breath, Stiles rolled out of bed, narrowly missing impaling his foot on something sharp among the clutter on the floor. He shuffled to the bathroom, thumping a fist on his dad's door as he passed to make sure he would be up for work.

An hour later, and Stiles found himself in the Beacon Hills High School office, almost empty backpack folded on his lap, waiting for the receptionist to print out his timetable and copy of the school map. He was a grade ahead in high school back in New York, but the school had insisted that they put him in his 'correct' year here in Cali. So this year was gonna be insanely boring. Not mentioning the fact that he was starting a month into the first semester of the year as well.

He sighed. Yeah, this year wasn't gonna be good.

At least he's been put into most of the AP junior classes. Could be worse. Plus he's away from the psycho crazy wolf pack feuds he was caught in the middle of back on the East Coast.

And the hunters weren't on his tail anymore. He'd given them the slip. For now.

The first class he had was AP Chemistry. The halls were easy enough to navigate, and he had arrived early.

Apparently, however, not early enough to avoid the teacher making him stand at the front to introduce himself to the members of the class already in the lab.

He smiled at the bored and uncaring faces of his new classmates, introducing himself as Stiles, having recently moved from Colorado. That was the story the Stilinskis were going with; his dad had contacts in the police department in a small town there who had confirmed as part of their cover that he had been the Sheriff there. The transfer to the BHPD was easy after that.

"Why don't you sit next to Lydia?" the teacher smiled, gesturing at a girl on the second row.

She huffed in annoyance.

"Mr Ha-"

"Lydia," he interrupted, his voice thick with put-on patience. "Mr Stilinski will sit next to you this semester."

She glared indignantly at the teacher before muttering a resigned "Fine," to herself, glaring at Stiles as he took his seat.

He grimaced a sorry expression at her, as he supposed what was her usual lab partner slunk back to find another seat.

The girl, Lydia glared at him as he slipped onto the stool. He winced in apology as he pulled out his notebook.

Lydia was honestly the prettiest girl he'd seen in his life. Then again, most of his life he'd been around scary ladies, like Kali for example. That wasn't saying that Lydia wasn't pretty compared to other girls in general, she definitely was, looking around the classroom for a quick comparison, and she definitely wasn't any less scary than anyone he'd known from before.

Basically, if he swung her way, he's pretty sure he'd be totally in love with her.

The teacher gave a quick explanation of the alcohols and esters they would be learning about that lesson and set a recap exercise for the class to work on, reaffirming what they had done previously. Lydia huffed and turned to Stiles, obviously taking that as her having to explain the material to Stiles. She stopped short when she saw he'd already started the first problem.

She quirked an eyebrow curiously despite herself.

"You've done this already?"

Stiles shrugged scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

"Uh yeah. Last year."

"Seriously? This is AP."

"I took foundation junior year last year. This stuff is basically what we covered," he explained, gesturing at the board at the front of the room. "I mean, it's gonna get more detailed right? But yeah," he shrugged again, "this stuff's simple I guess."

He met Lydia's gaze, glad that it was less hostile.

"So you're eighteen?" she asked, turning to absently work on the problems while she listened. Stiles did the same.

"No, seventeen."

"Your birthday's in the summer then," she decided.

He chuckled at her. "No actually, it's in October. I was a grade ahead back in Colorado."

Lydia whipped her gaze back to him.

"Seriously?" she hissed incredulously.

He nodded, smiling to himself as he finished the exercise. "Yeah, authorities wanted to put me back with my, uh... people my age," he shrugged, frowning slightly.

Lydia huffed again. "Well now I have competition for top of the class," she muttered half-annoyed. The relaxed lines of her shoulders told Stiles that she had started to warm up to him despite her sharp tone.

He snorted. "What with brains like that?" he teased, nodding at the perfect answers on her sheet. "I don't think so."

Lydia quirked a small smile at him, an almost unnoticeable blush colouring her cheeks as he praised her work.

He grinned back with a joking wink. He was gonna be good friends with this girl, he could tell.

"So, uh," he continued after a moment.

Lydia narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

Stiles' eyes widened. "Oh no, no whoa there," he flailed his arms round his head, "I'm not trying to ask you out. Don't get me wrong, you're beautiful and everything, but you're not my type," he laughed nervously, glad that Lydia had relaxed again.

"I wanted to apologise for taking the place of your lab partner. I mean, I didn't really have much say in it, but doesn't stop me feeling bad," he shrugged, another sheepish smile on his face.

Lydia tilted her head at him. "I don't usually have a lab partner."

Stiles' brow furrowed in confusion. "Then-"

"Everyone in this class is stupid and slow, so Harris and I have a system that I'll work alone and he'll give me harder problems," she explained, matter-of-fact.

Stiles blinked at her. "Oh."

"I was annoyed when he put you here because I thought you'd be stupid too."

Stiles grinned at her slowly then. "Aww, you don't think I'm stupid?" he teased, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

She huffed and rolled her eyes, staring ahead as the teacher called for the class's attention.

They took notes from the board in comfortable silence.

After a while, Lydia cast a sideways glance at Stiles.

"What did you mean when you said earlier that I wasn't your type?" she murmured quietly.

Stiles smirked, meeting her gaze from the corner of his eye. "What, did I bruise your ego?" he poked playfully.

Lydia rolled her eyes in exasperation. "As if," she snorted, "I get asked out by random guys like four times a day minimum, _and_ I have a boyfriend."

Stiles winced sympathetically. "That's gotta suck," he muttered sourly. Then he shrugged. "I'm gay."

Lydia nodded at her notebook, smirking slightly to herself. "Knew it," she muttered victoriously, eliciting a loud snort from Stiles, which drew the attention and a sharp warning from their teacher.

They hurriedly turned back to their work, small smiles still on their lips.

The rest of the morning passed with no extraordinary happenstance; classes were menial, much of the material he had already covered, awkward introductions to classes were made, and he had spent recess poking around the vaguely disappointing school library due to a lack of any social status or acknowledgement.

Now, however, it was his lunch hour, and he entered the canteen with trepidation, wary of the food he would be served.

To his pleasant surprise, it really wasn't that bad, at least aesthetically. Pizza, fries and a not-too-squishy apple. Sliding his tray off the counter, he scanned the room for an unoccupied table to sit at. Spotting one near the windows, he began maneuvering carefully through the rows of tables and jostling teenagers.

"Stiles!"

He was about halfway across the room, when he heard his name called from behind him. He whipped round, bottle of water on the tray wobbling precariously.  
Lydia was stood up at her place on a busy table a few rows over, waving him over. He grinned, shaking his tray at her in his own form of wave as he began walking over to her, glad he wouldn't have to sit alone.

Lydia pushed the guy sitting next to her along, gesturing for Stiles to sit in the now vacant place beside her.

His stomach twisted as he walked up next to her, smile faltering nervously, the unmistakable aura of wolves tugging at his magic. He pulled instinctively on his cloaking charm, making sure his magic was concealed securely, before forcing a bright smile back on his face as he placed his tray in front of the spot beside Lydia.

"Guys, this is Stiles," she addressed her friends, gesturing at Stiles as he sat down.

"Stiles, this is Scott," she introduced, pointing to the guy she had pushed over to make room for him. The brown haired boy smiled at him warmly and gave him a small wave.

"That's Allison," she pointed at the girl on the far side of Scott, who gave him a wide smile and bright wave.

"Isaac," the curly haired blond smirked at him with a small nod from Allison's far side, "Erica and Boyd," she gestured at the couple on the other side of the table,

"Malia and Kira," she pointed at the two girls practically sitting on top of each other, "Danny," the tanned skin boy across from him smirking flirtatiously, "and Jackson," she finished, placing a hand on top of his as they rested on the table. Jackson was glaring at him coldly. Stiles quickly looked away, smiling sheepishly at the rest of the... Pack-group, instead.

"Wow, uh I am gonna try so hard to remember all those," he scratched the back of his head ruefully.

The boy next to him, Scott, laughed easily.

"Hey man, don't stress it's cool, you'll get to learn them," he reassured.

Stiles was taken aback at that. He blinked, his mouth slackening slightly. This kid, Scott, wanted Stiles to stick around. No one had wanted that before, Stiles realised with a sharp pull in his gut. He covered up his hesitation with a short laugh, punching the kid playfully on the arm.

"Sure will dude," he returned with a practiced grin.

Two things happened when Stiles' fingers brushed Scott's arm:

  1. A familiar jolt between them shocked Stiles. This kid was the Alpha
  2. A barely audible growl came over the table, followed by a quick slap, and the growl cut off. Knowing the sound would not have reached normal human ears, he glanced subtly out of the corner of his eye. Jackson was glaring at him with more heat than before, and Lydia looked like she was going to slap his hand again.



Right. He had touched their Alpha. He pulled his hand away casually, using both hands to unscrew the cap of his water bottle.

"So, uh, you sure you don't mind me butting in with you guys?" he asked carefully, looking at the Alpha- Scott.

Scott laughed, nudging Stiles with his elbow, eyes crinkling as he grinned. "Course not, bro."

Stiles tried not to wince as the jolt of contact shocked through him again. It kept taking him by surprise, stronger than a regular Alpha's spark, almost as sharp as Deucalion's.

The girl on Scott's other side poked her head around Scott, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"Totally, Stiles," she affirmed. "I mean, Lydia already likes you, which is pretty good indication that you're one to keep around," she grinned, winking at the girl behind Stiles.

Stiles grinned back, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders knowing he was welcome, before turning to Lydia.

"Aww, I didn't know you were sweet on me," he crooned, earning him an eye roll and light slap from the redhead.

"You know chemistry," she shrugged, "that's enough to get a girl interested." Several people around the table snickered at them.

Suddenly one of the girls across from Stiles leant across the table and began sniffing loudly, ignoring the panicked hands of the girl she had been sitting on trying to pull her back.

She frowned at Stiles. "You smell weird. Why do you smell weird?"

Stiles eyes widened. He could feel his heartbeat picking up in his chest as he grappled blindly for the spells concealing his scent and heartbeat, making sure they hadn't slipped.

Scott let out a strangled noise beside him and glared at the girl meaningfully.

"Malia what the hell?" he hissed.

She frowned. "But-"

"Malia," Scott grit out, a commanding growl under his voice.

Malia dropped her gaze from Scott's and sat back to lean against the dark haired girl again, muttering an insincere 'sorry' under her breath.

Stiles let out the breath he had been holding slowly, counting in his head as his heartbeat slowed down. He stared at Malia quizzically until Scott turned to him, his expression sheepish.

"Sorry dude, she's a bit uh... forward?"

Danny started laughing then.

"Oh my god, you should have been there when she asked Kira out, that was hilarious," he chuckled, eyes creasing as he grinned. Several other people joined in his laughter. Kira turned bright red and hid herself in Malia's hair with an indignant protest.

Malia frowned at them. "What? All I did was-" whatever she said next was muffled by Kira's hand.

The table erupted into loud peals of laughter. Stiles was laughing so hard his sides began hurting. He leant his head on Scott's shoulder, the Alpha's body shaking beneath him.

"Oh my god I have to hear that story sometime," he wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye.

"Definitely," Allison agreed breathlessly.

"So Stiles," an intimidating blonde girl across from him purred, leaning her elbows on the table in front of her, "tell us, what's your story?" she asked, red painted lips curled in a dangerous smirk.

Stiles could tell that she didn't trust him one ounce; she was more suspicious of newcomers than her fellow Packmates, that much was apparent. Nevertheless, the Pack turned to him, sobering from their laughter slowly.

Stiles shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. "Not much to tell, really," he double checked the spell concealing his heartbeat. Knowing all the wolves would hear was a steady beat, he was certain that they wouldn't detect the lies he was about to spew out. "Born and bred in Colorado, in a small town where nothing ever happened.

Been me and my dad since I last year," he shrugged again, a familiar tightness settling in his throat. He smiled at the blonde. "And so here I am. Dad filled the vacancy of the Beacon Hills Sherriff. Pay was better than back home, and everything around us reminded us of Mom. We needed a fresh start," he finished softly. That much was true, at least.

The blonde was staring at him, an eyebrow raised in calculation. She held his gaze for another tense moment, before nodding to herself and leaning back against her boyfriend.

"Sorry about your mom, dude," Scott said, squeezing Stiles' shoulder reassuringly.

"Thanks man," he answered quietly, smiling gratefully at the Alpha.

"Colorado?" Isaac asked from around Allison. "Scott don't you know an Al-" a sharp elbow to his ribs cut him off. He glared sharply at Allison before continuing, "an acquaintance there?"

Realisation crossed Scott's face. "Oh yeah! You from the south? Maybe you know him too!"

Stiles shook his head. "North."

"Damn, that would've been cool," Scott answers, his smile bright nonetheless. The phrase "and easier" was left unsaid to the Pack. If Stiles had known this Alpha, they could've just been like "oh hey, we're werewolves too!" The irony wasn't lost on Stiles, seeing how he was pretty well seasoned in the werewolf scheme of things.

The Pack broke off into their own separate conversations after that. Stiles, in the middle of a heated debate with Scott about DC superheroes, was glad the focus had shifted from him, though he didn't miss the furtive glances several people sent him, still not sure what to make of the newcomer.

As much as Stiles was kicking himself for finding and rubbing shoulders with the local Pack of werewolves so quickly in what was supposed to be his safe haven, he couldn't help feel glad that he wouldn't be alone in this new town.

He just hoped his dad wouldn't smack him upside the head when he inevitably found out who Stiles' new friends were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we have the first installation of my first Teen Wolf fic!
> 
> I know where I want this story to go, so writing will happen fairly swiftly. I am, however, anticipating a very heavy workload from college this year, so I will be updating on a fortnightly basis (every other Saturday), unless I can manage a chapter a week (which I will specify in the future if it happens).
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this, I'm excited to write more!
> 
> ~Marcy


	2. Release

When Stiles got home after school, he threw himself on the couch and let out a groan.

His dad was gonna kill him.

School hadn't been bad; he'd had Advanced Calculus with Lydia and Economics with Scott and Malia, and the work set by his teachers for homework was all stuff he'd already covered.

But now his magic was itching in his bones, and he'd almost shocked the bus driver when he handed over his fare on his way home, due to the pent up energy coursing through his body.

After a minute of wallowing in self pity over the lecture he was no doubt going to get when his dad got back from the station, he pulled himself off the couch and went upstairs to his room. He changed into a pair of jogging pants and a long sleeved sports shirt, ignoring the still unpacked boxes littering his floor, before going back downstairs.

He slipped on his running shoes and headed out the front door, slipping the key into his sock for safekeeping. He ran through some quick warm-up stretches on the front lawn before setting off at a brisk jog towards the forest fringing the eastern side of the town.

Once he reached the treeline, Stiles let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. His shoulders relaxed and he pushed himself to run faster, probably faster than a regular human would be running after a long day at school.

He sped through the trees, enjoying the sounds of snapping twigs and cracking leaves beneath his feet, and the sounds of squirrels and birds in the trees around him.

He ran deep into the forest, until beads of sweat began forming on his brow and his muscles started to feel numb. He slowed to a halt, taking deep breaths of the clean woodland air. It was refreshing to breathe such clean air, smelling nothing but pine and fresh earth, rather than the smog and sweat that hung in the air back in NYC.

He wandered leisurely through the trees, stretching his upper body muscles as he walked, until he reached a small clearing among the trees. Smiling to himself, he cleared the leaves coating the ground with a lazy flick of his wrist, then twirled his hand upwards to remove the excess moisture from the grass.

Satisfied, he stripped off his shirt and sat cross-legged on the ground in the centre of the clearing. The edges of the swirls and lines that mapped across his body in black ink flickered with light, keeping his already overfull body from accumulating more magic too quickly, and burning him out. The tattoos were helping bind his magic to his bones and protect him from the vast amounts of energy packed into his bones, but with his magic becoming more and more powerful each day, the tendrils of black ink grew _with_ the power, and were rapidly expanding across his skin. They were still low enough on his collarbone that he could wear t-shirts, but the curling strands reaching close to his elbows made wearing t-shirts without an extra layer impossible.

Ignoring the habitual irritation that curled in his gut as he inspected his overactive ink, he exhaled sharply into the crisp air and watched as the condensation curled upwards, drifting away from him into the air. He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes as he concentrated on keeping the mist together, letting it writhe in a small cloud rather than dispersing into the leaves high above his head. He pulled the mist back towards him, until it hovered over his cupped hands.

Breathing out slowly through his nose, he shut his eyes, fingers dancing idly with the cloud of steam, as it floated in its place. He cleared his mind somewhat hesitantly, with more difficulty than usual due to his new setting, and focused on the bursts of colour exploding behind his eyes. Keeping his mind blank, he played aimlessly with his magic, letting it lead him as its excess energy dissipated into the trees around the clearing. The sounds of the forest became amplified in his head, adding to the sense of calm settling in his stomach, the sounds of cracking branches and scurrying rodents echoing around his empty head.

He soon began feeling less volatile as he let his magic floated freely- well, as freely as it could beneath it's heavy concealment charms. It wasn't ideal, clamping his magic down like it was, but there was no way he'd leave it exposed in such a supernaturally active town. It also made it harder for the Alphas to track him, without his magic sending out a beacon, pinpointing his location.

Far too soon, he could feel his thoughts twitching at the edges of his mind, pulling him back to awareness, long before he wanted them to. Stiles had gotten better at maintaining his state over the years, but today his overactive brain coupled with recent events and an unfamiliar environment made it virtually impossible to hold his state for longer than twenty minutes. It was frustrating.

He felt himself frown and began trying to force his thoughts away.

Of course as soon as he started that, he woke his brain up, and soon he was brought back to consciousness, frenzied thoughts whirling around his head at a dizzying speed. His magic curled distastefully in his stomach as he opened his eyes.

Leaves that had apparently been orbiting in lazy circles around him while he drifted, fluttered slowly to the ground once more.

Sighing in defeat, Stiles stood up, stretching to click the vertebrae in his spine back into place. He contemplated using magic to transport himself home, but that was cheating, and he needed the exercise after not running so much in the last few months. He scooped up his shirt and pulled it over his head, before setting off at a gentle run, following the pull of 'home' through the trees.

~

The Sheriff was home when Stiles got back. Stiles tried to slip upstairs without his dad noticing his presence.

Unfortunately for Stiles, his dad apparently had sharper hearing than werewolves.

"Hey kid, how was school?" he asked walking from the kitchen into the hallway. One look at Stiles' wide-eyed expression and his face went from relaxed to suspicious, complete with narrowed eyes and a worried frown.

"What did you do?"

Stiles' eyes widened further and he let out a hysterical laugh. "What did I-, hah, no Dad nothing! Why would you think I-"

"Stiles, don't lie to me. What happened?"

Stiles looked down, suddenly feeling a lot more guilty. The last time he lied to his dad about something like this, he started a whole chain of events that bought them to Beacon Hills.

"I, uh, found the resident werewolf Pack and maybe sat with them at lunch," Stiles muttered, pulling at his shirt sleeve nervously.

He expected his dad to explode at him. When no explosion came, he looked up to find his dad with his arms folded across his chest, staring at him with a mixture of concern and exasperation in his eyes.

"You're a magnet for these things, aren't you kiddo," John replied after a moment.

"Why aren't you mad at me?" Stiles asked quietly.

John's face softened. "We did our research and found no trace of these guys, just a couple of unsolved murders, which I looked into today. They've marked them down as animal attacks, and they happened almost two years ago. If this Pack was troublesome, we would have found them, what with the amount we vetted the place. They're peaceful, so I'm not mad you've made friends with them." John paused, nodding his head back towards the kitchen. Stiles followed his dad into the brightly lit room, still shocked he wasn't getting yelled at. "If anything, I'm _glad_ you've found them; they might be able to help you when..." John trailed off. He didn't need to say any more, for them both to know that he was talking about the Alphas.

"Do they know about..." John made jazz hands at Stiles, meaning his magic, settling down at the kitchen table.

Stiles couldn't help himself; he grinned fondly at his dad, despite the residual guilt sitting heavily in his stomach.

"No they don't. I'm not telling anyone until the fifth reserve is opened and my magic is properly bound to my bones." John nodded approvingly. "But..." Stiles winced, "it's getting stronger, like, everyday," he scratched the back of his head, trying to fight the sinking feeling in his gut, knowing his dad would be disappointed at what he was about to tell him, "and the meditation is still... hard. I need to drift for at least an hour if I want to find the reserve and unlock it quickly. I can barely make twenty minutes," he finished in a whisper, shoulders hunched as he sank down onto a kitchen chair.

The Sheriff walked round the table to stand in front of his son. He placed his hands on Stiles' tense shoulders and waited for his son to look at him.

Stiles met his father's gaze reluctantly with eyes bright from unshed tears, not wanting to see the disappointment in his father's eyes. The pride and concern Stiles' gaze was met with had a lump rising in his throat.

"Why aren't you mad?" Stiles asked thickly.

John smiled, somewhat disbelievingly. "Stiles I'm incredibly proud of you. No kid should have to go through what you did. No one should have their mother ripped from them," a tear dropped down Stiles' face as his dad continued, "and no one should have to fight something so dreadful, _ever_. You came out alive and ready to fight back," John's eyes were wet now. "After your mom, I fell apart. You held us _both_ together Stiles, and you still haven't broken down. It might be better to let it out," John murmured, voice cracking with emotion as he squeezed Stiles' shoulders gently.

Stiles shook his head, bitter tears running freely down his face. "You don't want me to break down, Dad. Only one person deserves that of me after what he did," Stiles choked, "I'm waiting for Deucalion to come to fall apart." For Stiles, breaking down meant losing control. Stiles wasn't even going to _try_ controlling himself when he faced the Alpha again. Until then, he needed to anchor himself desperately to everything he had, namely his dad, knowing that losing control could mean the whole town going up in flames.

 

Strong arms pulled him upright, and Stiles found himself against his father's chest. He let out a sob as he fisted his hands in the back of the Sheriff's shirt, clinging tightly to the only important thing he had left.

They both pointedly ignored the lights flickering in the kitchen.

~

Stiles woke from a restless sleep, filled with not-quite-dreams and flashes of red eyes, half an hour before his alarm rang the next morning. He worked through his morning routine mechanically, and unpacked one of his boxes as he waited for his alarm to go off so he could wake his dad up at a reasonable time.

Once at school, with a promise from his dad to check out the second hand car garage just out of town at the weekend, he ran into Scott and Isaac.

"Hey Stiles!" Scott called after him as Stiles was walking to his locker. Stiles tripped in a circle, whirling around precariously to grin at the Alpha jogging over to him with Isaac in tow.

"'S'up my man?" Stiles greeted, bumping his fist against Scott's.

"You ever played lacrosse?" Scott asked enthusiastically.

Stiles shook his head. "Never had a chance, I kinda always wanted to though," he answered truthfully. It definitely looked better than soccer or basketball as far as peppy high school sports went.

 

Scott's smile, which had dimmed in disappointment, brightened. "Awesome! Our team are holding tryouts on Friday after school. You should totally come," Scott enthused. "I'm captain," he grinned proudly.

Stiles wasn't surprised by that. He _was_ surprised by the offer, though. His mouth opened and closed dumbly as he stared at Scott, confused as to why Scott wanted him around so much. As far as any of their Pack knew, he was just a defenceless, oblivious human.

"Seriously?"

Scott nodded. "Hell yeah, dude."

Isaac grinned over Scott's shoulder. "He's really enthusiastic about lacrosse." He laughed when Scott swatted him away playfully.

"Dude, that's awesome, thanks," Stiles answered Scott before grinning at Isaac. "Yeah I had no idea, thanks for the heads up," he smirked.

Scott pouted when the two boys started snickering childishly.

"You guys are mean," he whined, before grabbing Isaac's hand. "We're off to English," he sniffed, and turned on his heel, dragging a still laughing Isaac behind him.

Before Stiles could worry about whether or not he had actually offended the Alpha, Scott turned around and threw a cheery "Bye, Stiles" over his shoulder as he disappeared around the corner.

~

The week passed in a blur of becoming closer friends with the Pack, discovering that he and Scott were crazy about pretty much all the same franchises, and daily runs in the forest after school.

Oh and of course making the Chemistry teacher hate him. It really wasn't his fault that he picked up the wrong chemical and burned through the bottom of the test tube, but Mr. Harris just wouldn't listen to anything he had to say. Him and Lydia bonded over frozen yoghurts at the local dessert shop after that lesson, bitching about Mr Harris and his stupid judge-y glares. It was fun.

But now it was Friday, and the after school lacrosse tryouts were looming. For the first time that week, sitting restlessly in his History class, Stiles wondered whether it was a good idea to place himself on the field among the wolves. What if he slipped up and something happened? His cover would be blown and he'd have to flee again.

He tapped his pen nervously on the desk, glad the wolves wouldn't be able to hear his racing heart as he tried in vain to pay attention to the History of the Constitution.

He glanced Scott who was sitting a few desks over, one row forward from him. Scott was practically bouncing in excitement and kept sending Stiles bright smiles. Stiles rolled his eyes, and shot a quick glance at Kira, who was staring at Scott with an amused smile. Stiles supposed this was normal for first lacrosse practice of the year.

As soon as the bell at the end of class rang, Scott jumped up from his desk and shoved his books in his bag haphazardly.

He jogged over to Kira, pulling her over to Stiles' desk and hopped around impatiently as he waited for Stiles to pack his bag.

As soon as Stiles was done, Scott pulled Stiles up from his desk and towed the slightly shell-shocked boy out of the classroom by his elbow, Kira laughing as she followed behind.

~

On the field, Stiles picked at his borrowed lacrosse kit uncomfortably; the shoulder pads were too loose and a bit scratchy at the seams. Coach, who was also the eccentric Economics teacher, Stiles noted, barked orders at the returning players and terrified freshmen both, and soon the dozens of students were running laps of the field.

As they ran, Scott remained at a positively human pace, as did Jackson, Kira and Isaac. The only supernatural thing about the wolves (and whatever Kira was; Stiles had decided that she definitely wasn't a wolf, when he saw a particularly un-wolf-like aura around her head on Wednesday morning), was that Scott kept up an enthusiastic commentary about lacrosse tactics and techniques as they ran, without showing any signs of exhaustion or shortage of breath.

Stiles kept up with the wolves easily and by the time Coach called them in, he was only just beginning to feel the pull in his muscles. He smirked to himself; that was pretty impressive really, seeing as most of the less supernaturally gifted (or cursed, depending on how you looked at it) students were in various states of cardiac arrest around the field.

Attack practice started, and things got a bit more interesting. Stiles watched from his place at the end of the line as the older players formed defence formations and the younger students took turns in shooting at the goal. Stiles' eyes widened in horror as he watched Isaac and Jackson wipe every one of them out without breaking sweat. Coach was calling encouragement to the kids that got their asses kicked the least by the players in defence.

Stiles swallowed nervously as Coach called him up to face the wolves. He tried to run between the two boys, but got caught by Jackson square in the chest with much more force than should be expected of an adolescent human being. Evidently, Jackson hated him for some reason, and had it out for him. He tumbled to the ground, completely winded.

Well okay. So the wolves were cheating. Stiles snarled from where he had been thrown to the floor by Mr. Blue-Eyes Stupid-Hair. He got to his feet quickly, rolling his wrists as he adjusted his grip on the lacrosse stick.

If they were cheating, then fuck that, he would too. Grinning under his helmet, he let his eyes flash white for the shortest second, channeling the energy crackling through his bones to his muscles. He felt both sharper and lighter at once as he scooped up the ball and sprinted back towards the goal. Jackson and Isaac squared themselves again in his path. Jackson's eyes flashed blue as he crouched down beside Isaac. Stiles narrowed his eyes, sprinting faster towards them.

The two lunged at him as he approached. Stiles grunted, pushing forwards until Isaac was less than a foot away from him. He leapt over the crouched wolf, spinning the net to keep the ball secure as he had seen Danny do earlier. Landing deftly on his feet, he ran straight at Jackson, spinning round the Beta with the net held close to his chest, barely a second before they would've collided. He stuck a foot out as he ran for the open goal, tripping Jackson up and sending him sprawling. He snickered at the soft grunt coming from the floor behind him. If anyone asked, it was totally Karma.

He vaulted his arms forward, flicking the stick over his head. The ball left his net and bulleted for the goal, right past Scott's keeper's net into the net. The back net mostly cushioned the ball, though one of the strings snapped as the ball hit home.

Stiles pumped the air with his fist in victory, spinning to face an open mouthed Coach standing by the bleachers.

Scott pulled off his his helmet and jogged over to Stiles, eyes wide in awe.

"Dude, I thought you said you didn't play."

Stiles laughed. "Guess I'm a fast learner," he shrugged, throwing an arm over Scott's shoulders and pulling his helmet off as Coach blew the whistle for the end of practice.

Scott laughed with him. "Yeah, no kidding," he shook his head in disbelief, chuckling as they wandered over to the bleachers.

Stiles was glad he didn't back out at the last moment before tryouts as he had contemplated doing in History. The glare on Jackson's face was totally worth it. And if he had pleased the Alpha on top of that, then that didn't hurt either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonsoir, lovely readers!
> 
> Just want to send out a quick 'thank you' to everyone who left super-wonderful feedback on Chapter 1 :DD I love you all a lot; honestly, you guys had me grinning like a maniac when I read your comments :3
> 
> Hope the second chapter didn't disappoint; I have big plans for this baby! Chapter 3 should be along in two weeks (Sat. 27th Sept.), unless I can churn one out by next week.
> 
> This work is un-beta'd, so mistakes are all mine; if you spot any, please point them out!
> 
> So, lots of love to you all, and I'll be ready with the third installment of 'Buying Time' in a fortnight :)
> 
> ~Marcy


	3. Secret

Stiles ignored the curious and slightly jealous glances the other students were sending his way on Monday morning as he walked through the halls arm in arm with Queen Bee, Lydia Martin. It was only his second week, and he was already rubbing shoulders with what was quickly becoming apparent as BHHS's elite. That was enough to get people's attention. So much for keeping a low profile.

Lydia was rambling about the pros and cons of Gucci's Spring Collection 2012 as they walked to class. Stiles was only half listening, nodding and humming noncommittally whenever he deemed appropriate. He only became aware that Lydia had changed the subject halfway through her sentence.

"-so I'll follow you home in my car so we can discuss your wardrobe."

Stiles stopped walking suddenly and frowned at her with his mouth agape. Lydia stopped a step too late. She jerked back and sent him a withering glare.

"No, no, wait Lydia," he protested, waving his free arm in front of her, "you can't just choose to decide what I wear! I mean, I've only known you for a week and it's just not wha-"

"Stiles, if you're going to hang round with me, I'm not having you dressed like that," she cut in, her tone resolute, gesturing at his plaid shirt and loose jeans with vague distaste.

Stiles extracted his arm from Lydia's and tugged his Batman shirt indignantly.

"There's nothing wrong with what I'm wearing," he retorted, feeling like a petulant child as he huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

Lydia raised her eyebrow at him. Just as she opened her mouth, to argue with him no doubt, the bell signalling the beginning of the first period rang across the halls. She glared at him, probably for making her late, until Stiles sighed and threw his head back in defeat.

"Fine," he muttered to the air, rolling his head round to meet Lydia's gaze again.

The smile she sent him was brilliant. "Great, meet you by your locker." And with that, she turned on her heel, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she strode away.

Stiles chuckled fondly, wondering what the hell he had just gotten himself into as he slipped into his History class, only several minutes late. He was glad the teacher didn't didn't call him out on it.

He slipped into the desk behind Scott, returning the Alpha's grin and bumping his fist against Scott's as the teacher finished roll call.

"How was car hunting?" Scott whispered.

Stiles' grin widened. "Scott, she's beautiful. I saw her and fell in love," he gushed quietly.

His new car (well, new to him. In reality, she was probably at least five years older than him) was a powder blue Jeep with black doors. She was cheap as dirt and she was wonderful. Stiles had spent his entire Sunday exploring the narrow roads on the far side of the forest from town with the windows rolled all the way down and the stereo blaring an old AC/DC cassette that had been left in the car. It was great.

Scott's eyes sparkled enthusiastically. "Dude, you have to take me for a drive sometime!"

Stiles grinned widely. "Oh totally, man. How does tomorrow after school sound? We can circulate back to my place and play a couple of rounds of Call Of Duty."

Scott nodded, opening his mouth.

"Mr McCall please," the teacher admonished sharply.

Scott whipped round to face the front with a quiet "Sorry, sir". Stiles could see the tips of the Alpha's ears burning red. Ten minutes later, Stiles' phone buzzed in his pocket. He slipped it out discreetly.

          **9:16 a.m, From: Scotty  
** _totes up 4 tht bro_

Stiles grinned, heart lurching happily in his chest as he slid his phone back into his jeans.

~

"Lydia, I happen to like what I wear," Stiles whined tiredly from where he was curled up on the floor around several of his favourite shirts that Lydia had thrown aside in dissatisfaction.

Lydia sighed, pausing where she was rifling through another of Stiles' unpacked clothes boxes to shoot him a patronising look.

"That's _great_ , Stiles, but you need more than just _plaid_ and jeans that hide your amazing ass because they're a size too big," she said, speaking slowly, as if explaining something to a small child.

Stiles craned his neck around to glare up at her, hugging his shirts closer to his chest. He chose to ignore her compliment of his ass in favour of defending his fashion choices (and his honour).

Lydia let out a long suffering noise at his stubborn silence. "Okay, fine. Three days. Three days a week, you wear what I tell you to, and the rest you can continue..." she gestured to his clothes, "doing your thing."

Stiles sat up cautiously, staring at her with narrowed eyes. He paused before answering.

"Three days?"

"Thursday, Friday and Saturday. And any other days we'll be hanging out after school."

Stiles remained silent for a moment, eyes narrowed as he considered her demand, before giving in.

"Fine."

Lydia threw her hands up, looking intensely relieved. " _Thank you_ ," she breathed, before high-tailing out of the room and running down the stairs, calling up for

Stiles to stay right there.

Stiles groaned, flopping back into a heap on his floor, wondering why the hell these guys were so easy to trust, why it was so easy for him to give in to them.

Lydia was back barely a minute later with several large bags hanging off her arms.

"Right, since I buy clothes for most of the Pa- party, I bought over the clothes that either didn't fit or didn't suit the other boys," she explained, correcting herself at the last second before referring to her friends as a Pack. Stiles smirked from where his face was mashed into his shirts; he was almost tempted to tell her that he knew. The Pack were slipping up more and more when they talked to Stiles about their collective group. It was hilarious, as it was endearing to know they they felt as comfortable around him as he did, them.

Instead, he nodded, pulling himself up to rummage through the bags with her.

They chatted idly about Calculus as they sorted what they both thought he should wear, Stiles carefully selecting only long sleeved dress shirts and henleys for his pile.

Lydia hummed appreciatively as she held up what appeared to be an extremely form fitting black t-shirt.

"This is a complete yes," she murmured before shoving it at Stiles along with a pair of skinny jeans. "Try this on."

Stiles looked it over gingerly. "Uh, how about something a bit... longer?" he asked carefully, biting his lip as he tried to substitute it for a different shirt.

Lydia pushed it back at him with a shake of her head.

"No, absolutely not. Try it on. Go," she demanded.

Stiles chewed his lips, squeezing his eyes shut. Dread filled his stomach. _God_ he was so stupid. He should have fought her harder against this whole thing; _of course_ something like this was bound to happen.

"I, uh- I can't Lydia," he muttered tightly.

She turned to face him, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Why not?"

Stiles shrugged, eyes looking anywhere but at Lydia. "I _can't_ , okay?" he repeated, hoping to all that was good that she would just drop it.

"Stiles, why not?" Lydia pressed, concern seeping into her voice.

Stiles ran through countless excuses in his head, desperately fishing for a way out of the situation.

Lydia touched his arm gently and Stiles jumped, barely restraining from shocking her with his magic.

"Stiles?"

Stiles met her gaze with wide eyes, seeing nothing but concern in her face.

"Are you-?"

"Can you keep a secret?" Stiles burst, making a crazy, split decision that could possibly wreck his life.

Lydia nodded wordlessly.

"You have to promise, _promise_ you won't tell _anyone_. Please. Not even Scott," Stiles begged, taking her hand in his own.

Again, Lydia nodded. "I swear. What's wrong?"

Stiles let an unnoticeable amount of magic pass into her. He couldn't find anything but honesty and worry in her, no trace of malice or ill-intent, and he found himself trusting her completely. He let out a shaky breath.

"Okay, okay."

He took his hand away from hers and pulled off his over-shirt. You could see the ends of his tattoos poking out of his t-shirt sleeves, but Lydia was still watching his face, her brow furrowed in concern. He stepped away from her and pulled off his shirt, watching anxiously with a hammering heart as her eyes widened as they travelled over the expanse of Stiles' bare torso.

"W- what... why?" Lydia murmured after a long silence. She reached out her hand towards him tentatively, as if wanting to touch the ink marking his skin.

Stiles held his arm towards her, letting her fingers dance lightly over the black swirls wrapped around his upper arm.

"It, uh... it helps protect me," he answered quietly.

Lydia tilted her head, curious, as her fingers followed the ink up to his shoulder.

"From what? How?"

Stiles held Lydia's free hand between his and concentrated on the heat passing between them. His eyes glowed white, and Lydia's head snapped up to meet his gaze in shock. Stiles felt the space between their hands grow hotter, and he took his hands away from hers with a gentle smile on his face, anxiety but a small echo in the back of his mind.

There, on Lydia's outstretched palm, danced a tiny flame, hovering less than an inch over her hand.

Lydia's face fell slack in surprise. She moved her hand closer to her face to inspect the flame, eyes wide with wonder as it followed her movements.

"Careful, it's hot," Stiles murmured softly, pulling Lydia's hand away from her face. "There are sigils under the ink; they're basically instinctive protection charms. They manifest on my skin as the strength of my spark grows. The ink covers the sigils to bind them to me. It's like a shield to stop anyone interfering with me and my magic."

"Can I see the sigils?" Lydia asked in a whisper, her eyes never leaving the flame over her hand.

Stiles concentrated on the excess magic bouncing around his body, channelling it through to the sigils until they glowed white against his tattoos.

Lydia's attention left the flame, causing it to flicker out. She didn't seem too upset, though, as she traced the glowing sigils with a tentative finger. A thought seemed to occur to her suddenly, and her hand stopped moving.

"So you know about the Pack then." It wasn't a question.

Stiles nodded sheepishly. "Yeah, I-"

"You're not trying to come in and tear us apart are you?" Lydia asked sharply, poking him hard in the chest, protectiveness and warning underlying her every word.

"What?! Ow, Lydia, no," Stiles replied incredulously, rubbing the spot on his chest where Lydia's nail had bitten into his skin. He dimmed the magic highlighting his sigils. "Do I actually have to remind you that _you're_ the one who started talking to _me_ , and all of you have kept coming to _me_ since I've been here."

Lydia tilted her head to the side, regarding him curiously as she thought his statement over. "Hmm you're right." Her eyes narrowed critically again. "Wait. You didn't cast a spell on me to get me to talk to you, did you?"

Stiles let out a disbelieving laugh, eyes widening at her accusation. "Oh my _god_ Lydia, _no_. The only magic I've ever used on you was two minutes ago to check that I could trust you and then the flame. _Wow_ Lyds, I'm not a _dick_ ," he laughed sourly.

Lydia stared at him for a moment before nodding curtly, apparently satisfied.

"Okay."

Stiles frowned. "Okay?"

"I believe you. And you can trust me; I won't tell anyone."

Stiles sagged in relief, breathing out a quiet "Thank you".

"But you have to tell them. About what you are," Lydia finished, staring at him firmly.

Stiles nodded. "I will. As soon as I can, I will," he promised.

Lydia shot him a small smile, before picking up the discarded clothes she had picked out earlier and and holding them against Stiles' chest.

"Now I know about your freaky body art, you can try these on," she smirked.

Stiles let out a put-upon sigh and snatched the clothes out of her hands playfully. Lydia laughed and turned around to continue sorting through the clothes she had bought.

Stiles pushed his jeans down and grabbed the pair Lydia had handed him.

"If you knew we were a Pack, why did you sit with us that lunchtime?" Lydia asked suddenly, her back still towards him.

Stiles paused where he had been trying to wriggle into the tight denim.

"Well first, I didn't know you were in the Pack in Chemistry because you're not a wolf, and then when you called me over at lunch, I didn't want to raise suspicion by running off. I had to play along," he shrugged.

"Do you know what I am?" Lydia asked, turning to face him. Her eyes flickered briefly to the ink curling around his thighs, but she didn't comment.

Stiles pulled the jeans all the way up and folded his arms across his chest. He tilted his head and stared at her intently. He couldn't see any aura she might have had with human eyes. Curiosity piqued, Stiles' eyes flashed white, as he let his magic enhance his sight.

Lydia's form was swathed in what looked like translucent white smoke. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen, and it was beautiful.

He shook his head, letting his vision return to normal.

Lydia looked down, dejected. "Neither do I," she murmured quietly.

Stiles walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Why don't I help you figure it out? I'll perform revealing charms, psychoanalysis spells, everything in the books. We'll figure it out," he promised. He didn't know what Lydia could and couldn't do; all he had was an image of her aura, but that was a problem for another day.

Lydia looked up him, an uncertain frown on her face. Stiles had never seen her look so unsure of herself.

"You would do that?"

Stiles snorted. "Well yeah, I wouldn't have offered otherwise."

Lydia huffed a laugh and rolled her eyes, hitting him on the chest. Stiles chuckled at her reaction.

"But seriously, I spent so long having no idea what was happening to me or what I was. I know how much it sucks, so I'll do all I can to help you work this out," he assured her.

Lydia nodded with a small smile. "Thank you. Now go put the shirt on. Honestly, Stilinski, stop stalling," she snapped playfully, pushing him away.

And suddenly, they were back to business. Stiles laughed as he pulled the shirt over his head. It was a rollercoaster, being friends with Lydia, but Stiles wouldn't have it any other way.

Lydia's eyes roamed over his body approvingly. She walked up to him, grabbed his shoulders, and spun him round.

"There," Lydia mused, sounding satisfied. "These do justice to your ass."

She marched away abruptly, seeming to have made a final decision on what she wanted Stiles to wear, sorting quickly through the clothes she had bought. She instructed him to change back into his own clothes as she finished putting the unneeded clothes back in the canvas bags she'd bought them in. Stiles complied, unable to fight the content smile that had settled on his face as he placed the new clothes on his bed beside her.

~

Once all the clothes were sorted (Lydia actually helped Stiles sort everything into his closet, because she was wonderful), they headed down to the kitchen. Lydia nursed a cup of hot chocolate while Stiles threw together a quick stir fry with leftover chicken from the day before.

They were halfway through an intense debate over the merits and drawbacks of electric cars, when the Sheriff walked into the room. He froze in his path when he saw Lydia sitting at the table with her back to him. His gaze shot from Lydia's head to the tattoos visible on Stiles arms and his hand immediately went for the gun on his belt.

"Oh hey, Dad," Stiles greeted brightly. "Electric cars are pointless, yes or no?"

John's hand stilled, hovering over the holster, eyes still on Lydia. She turned to face the Sheriff with a smile.

"Oh yeah, Dad this is Lydia," Stiles said, gesturing at the redhead. "She's... uh," he clicked his fingers as he hesitated, "we're working on it," he frowned.

Lydia rose gracefully from the kitchen table and stuck a hand out towards the Sheriff.

"It's lovely to meet you, Sheriff. I hope you don't mind, Stiles invited me to dinner," she said sweetly.

John shook her hand, noting her firm grip and confident stature. "Pleasure to meet you, Lydia," he smiled, though it was forced. He looked over at where Stiles was watching the two of them, still smiling widely. "I thought you said no one," John said sharply, glaring at his son.

Stiles had the grace to look sheepish. "In my defence, it was totally an accident. But you don't have to worry, Lydia swore she'd keep it a secret on the condition that I tell the Pack as soon as I can," he assured, waving the wooden spoon in his hand around in wild circles.

The Sheriff scrutinised Lydia for a long moment, before sighing wearily and offering her a tired smile.

"If my son trusts you, then I can too. You're welcome in this house any time."

Lydia smiled warmly. "Thank you, sir."

John huffed. "Call me John, kid."

Stiles let out an impatient sigh. Both Lydia and the Sheriff turned to look at him.

"Well that was nice and all, but you still didn't answer my question, Dad; electric cars, waste of space, yay or nay, this is very important," Stiles snapped, gesticulation with his spoon again.

John blinked, looking more than a little bit lost at Stiles' rapid speech. "Uh..." he looked at Lydia, who had a surprisingly serious expression on her face. He turned back to his son. "I don't really..."

Lydia leant towards the Sheriff and whispered dramatically in his ear. "Say yes."

"Yes," John echoed, still baffled by what was going on.

Stiles' mouth dropped open. "What the hell, Dad? I'm your _son_ , you're supposed to agree with _me_!"

John smirked at his son and shrugged his shoulders. "How was I supposed to know what you wanted me to say, and what can I say? She got there first. Now shut up and make me my dinner, I'm gonna take a shower." He grinned at Lydia as he walked out the kitchen, laughing as Stiles' threats and Lydia's laughter followed him up the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there readers!
> 
> Chapter 3 right on time :D This chapter is unbeta'd but thoroughly edited; any mistakes I've missed are all mine ((as usual, please point any out that you see)) but I may have a beta by next chapter! How exciting, right?!
> 
> I know people were looking forward to Derek being introduced, so sorry for no sexy wolf-man appearences this chapter. But who knows?? Maybe next chapter will be your lucky day?? (Spoiler alert: next chapter is your lucky day)
> 
> WELP, this has been fun. Expect Chapter 4 on Saturday October 11th (: OH, and if there's anything you REALLY WANT TO SEE in this fic, drop me a comment and I'll see if I can put it in :DD
> 
> Take care, lovelies
> 
> ~Marcy


	5. AUTHOR'S NOTE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry guys

Hi folks, 

I'm so sorry that this is such a late update, and not even a proper one at that, but these past months have been really stressful for me.

I've had to go through quite a lot of not-fun-stuff and have been relapsing pretty badly and writing this, although it was really fun, dropped to the bottom of my list of priorities. By the time I managed to get a bit better, my muse was gone and all I could write was garbage. I've slipped back a few steps since then and couldn't find the energy to carry on with this.

BUT, I'm not abandoning this work! I think that working on this might really help me back into a steady mindset, so I will be continuing with this work.

I've read the whole thing through again, and there's lots I'm not happy with, so I'm going to rewrite the first three chapters and go from there.

I probably won't update until I've completed it totally, or I've got most of the chapters written so that this doesn't happen again. 

I'm sorry for disappointing you guys, I know people were waiting ages, and I hope anyone who's still interested will be understanding of my situation. I'm really, really sorry for letting anyone down, but I swear I'll be back with this work all sorted. 

Thank you 

~ Marcy xx

**Author's Note:**

> So here we have the first installation of my first Teen Wolf fic!
> 
> I know where I want this story to go, so writing will happen fairly swiftly. I am, however, anticipating a very heavy workload from college this year, so I will be updating on a fortnightly basis (every other Saturday), unless I can manage a chapter a week (which I will specify in the future if it happens).
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this, I'm excited to write more!
> 
> ~Marcy


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